Olivia’s chestnut hair still curled in a slight wave at the ends, and her figure still curved in all the right places. Then there were those eyes blue as that grotto we’d left back in Italy, and bubblegum pink lips that gave a man ideas. Not that I ever had those ideas about Olivia. I was a lot of things back in the day, but a masochist wasn’t one of them.
Her gaze not quite landing on my face, Olivia stopped by my seat and gestured to the spot Miller had just vacated. “I guess I’m supposed to sit by you.”
“I’ve been counting the seconds until you arrived.” My legs were already folded origami-style with my knees near my chin, so it was no burden to stand up and stretch as Olivia slid past and flopped into her newly assigned seat.
Did I sniff her as she scooted by? I said I disliked her; I didn’t say I was dead. Olivia smelled like anger tinged with a faint floral, as if she’d frolicked in a garden of wildflowers prior to boarding.
But Olivia Sutton did not frolic. I doubted she even knew how to have fun.
With a sigh of regret, I resumed my seat and stretched my legs in a space surely made for short children.
“Why aren’t you in first class?” Olivia pulled down the seat tray and set a sleek laptop on top of it. Next came a dictionary-thick planner of some sort.
“Because that’s a waste of money,” I said.
“You and Miller booked your tickets too late.”
“That too.” I didn’t have a full-time assistant in Arkansas yet, as my last one had chosen to stay behind in California. Between running a business, dealing with movie premiere details, and creating another video game, I was barely keeping my head above water. Not for the first time, I gave thanks for my business partner, the CFO of Star Gazer Corp., but it still left a lot on my plate.
I pulled the script out of the seat pocket in front of me and resumed my close reading of the second act. The next movie was still a little rough, and I’d penciled in some suggestions of places that didn’t align with the games.Mars Warshad a devout following, and if one single legacy detail was off, the fans would mutiny.
Three minutes later, I’d just gotten to the part where a sister planet exploded into flames when I caught the signs of distress beside me. Though I didn’t want to, I looked over at Olivia, only to find her fumbling with the air-conditioning vent above her, her breathing oddly loud. A wild look glazed over her normally condescending eyes.
“You okay over there?” I inquired.
“Fine,” she said in a tone ofmind your business.
Type, type, type. She went back to her spreadsheet, stopping occasionally to wipe the thin sheen of sweat from her temple.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” I knew CPR, but the last thing I wanted to do was give mouth-to-mouth to Bolivia Dutton.
“I said I’m fine.” Now she reached over my head and aimedmyair vent directly toward her. “Go back to whatever you’re reading.”
“It’s a manuscript.” I continued to watch her, studying the curious transition in the normally unruffled woman.
Olivia leaned into my space, still stealing my air-conditioning. “Do these things even work?” she hissed. “I’ve felt a stronger breeze from a cat’s tail.”
“The temperature seems okay to me.” I held out my bottle of water. “You’re flushed.”
She shot me her infamous side-eye. “You could move your arm, you know.” She nudged my forearm where it rested between us. “You’re taking up more than your territory there, Hayes. I get half and you get half. That’s how armrests work.”
“Is that so?” I made no move to accommodate her pressing arm. “I’m bigger, so I get more square footage.That’show armrests work.”
“Isn’t it so like you to think so.” She fanned herself with a hand. “Your legs are also trespassing.”
I glanced down at my painfully cramped legs. “Let’s be neighbors who share.”
“Hi, there.” A raven-haired flight attendant stopped at our row and aimed the high beams of her smile right at me. “I like that hoodie.” After a blatant hair toss, she gestured toward my chest where the wordsMars Warsand a character icon shared space. “Are you a fan of the game?”
Olivia’s chest rose and fell like she’d just climbed off her Peloton, but she still had enough oxygen to power a withering look between me and Flirty Flight Attendant.
I set the script in my lap and gave the kind woman a grin. “I play every now and then.”
“It’s addictive, isn’t it?” She stepped closer, her perfume promising more than a bag of pretzels.
“Playing while wearing blue-light blocking glasses can reduce some of that addiction,” I told her.
“Mars Warsis so much more than a game though, right?” The flight attendant rested a hand on the baggage hold above us. “I’ve met some good friends playing it online, and last month when my boyfriend broke up with me, I just dove intoMars Warsthe whole weekend instead of crying my eyes out and eating my weight in ice cream.”
